


The Undercover Job

by rivlee



Category: HBO War, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-05 16:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: Wherein the NCIS Director decides Agents Haldane and Jones are the perfect choices for an undercover operation to root out a drug ring in Quantico.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, is this really necessary?” Special Agent Andy Haldane asked. 

He straightened his tie as he sat across the desk from Special Agent in Charge Haney and reminded himself not to roll his eyes at his superior. The Naval Criminal Investigative Service was lack on some things but insubordination wasn’t one of them. Andy had a clean record, he wasn’t about to tarnish it now over something so trivial.

“Yes, Agent Haldane, as your SAC, I believe it is necessary,” Haney said. 

“I’m fully capable of defending myself,” Andy said.

He had a team, a good one, but they were an investigative team, not an undercover one. He didn’t like working with a partner on undercover jobs. It was easier when he only had himself to worry about. Besides, he didn’t need a partner for this case, no matter what both the NCIS Director and his field office supervisor believed. 

“And I say you need someone to watch your back on this job,” Haney said. “Jones is one of our best.”

“Never heard of him,” Andy said. 

He’d been with NCIS for eight years and not once had anyone ever mentioned an Edward Jones. And people liked to talk to Andy, often and at great length. He knew more about some of his fellow employees than he did his own family members.

“That’s what makes Jones one of our best,” Haney said. “Not one part of him screams he’s a goddamned federal agent. He’ll be perfect for this cover.”

“He’s not going to have an issue posing as another man’s husband?” Andy asked. “He is aware some intimate contact is required to sell this successfully, yes?”

Haney said nothing, just let his blank face do all the talking.

Andy sighed, tried to ignore the headache already forming behind his eyes, and held his hand out for the case file. “When do I meet him?”

“I suspect he’ll find you first,” Haney said. 

Andy glanced up from the file. “Do I want to know why you have that smile on your face?”

Haney just gave him that noncommittal shrug he’d perfected. 

“I take it I’m dismissed,” Andy said.

Haney nodded. “Try not to have too much fun on this one, Haldane.”

It was an old joke about Andy’s commitment to professionalism and the job in general. He’d been mocked as the NCIS Poster Boy by more than a few of the older, tired, and worn agents. Andy preferred they mocked him for that rather than his personal life or his former career as a Marine Officer, and so it became the _thing_. Andy Haldane, perfect Senior Field Agent. When the sadder truth was more, Andy Haldane, married to his job and honestly just trying his best.

“Haldane,” Haney said when Andy had one foot out the door.

“Sir?”

Haney leaned back in his chair, pushed up the sleeves of suit coat, and leveled Andy with the type of serious look that usually meant there was going to be an international incident that Andy would have to clean up. 

“I chose you for this assignment because of the kind of agent you are. Your background was just an additional advantage. I don’t give a damn about who you fuck as long as it’s not on company time.”

“Thank you, sir,” Andy said.  
“And if it is on company time, at least lie about it,” Haney said.

“Yes, sir,” Andy said.

Haney nodded. “Ferret out these sonsofbitches as fast as you can.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Andy said. 

He closed the office door behind him and descended the stairs to the bullpen. There was work to do and no time to waste. The longer this case went unsolved, the more lives were at risk. He was already coming into this situation later than he liked. The agents at Quantico were doing their best, but they were well known faces among the families and employees there. They needed NCIS agents who were stationed outside of Headquarters, had knowledge of the area, could successfully pose as a member of the Marine Corps, and who had undercover experience.

Honestly, Andy would’ve been insulted if they hadn’t called him in for this one.

He paused for a moment to look over his team. R.V. Burgin, Romus to some, Burgie to most, was his de facto second-in-command. Haldane never had to worry about stepping away from his team with Burgie at his back. Poke Espera came next. A former Recon Marine, he came recommended to NCIS via one of his former Officers. Nate Fick felt it would be a waste to have Poke, with his quick wit and even quicker mind, back on US soil just towing cars. So they’d made a job offer to Poke, and he’d moved himself, his wife, and his two adorable daughters to Maryland. Vera Keller rounded out the team. She came from New Jersey, out of the New York FBI Office, after Andy had worked a case there. The New York field office was full of agents willing to stab each other in the back to get a sliver of career advancement. Vera, for all her brains and talent, had been firmly stuck on the bottom rung of that ladder. Andy had offered her a hand up and a place out and she took it, never looking back. 

And it’d been some type of proverbial magic ever since. 

“New case?” Burgie asked when Andy finally entered the bullpen. 

He, Poke, and Vera looked up from their computers, all ready for action. He hated that he’d have to leave them behind for this one, but it was truly for the best. He knew they’d only be a call away if he really needed them.

“For me, not for you. I’m going undercover,” Andy said. “Popeye Wynn is being temporarily reassigned to the team in my absence. Please don’t run him off again. You’ll make Shifty trigger happy.”

“Wynn’s a weapons expert,” Burgie said. “He shouldn’t be scared of us.”

Andy gave a long look over to where Vera and Poke were already grinning at each other.

“I’ll try to control them,” Burgie said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Why does Burgie always get to be Team Leader when you cut out?” Poke asked. “Me and Vera not good enough for you, Captain?”

“Because Burgie never let one of the agency’s cars get stolen and subsequently blown up,” Andy said.

“It was one time,” Poke muttered. 

“And he never threw a suspect off a balcony,” Andy continued.

“It only happened twice and one of those was an accident,” Vera said.

“And he has experience on both of you,” Andy said. He thought about it for a moment and came to a decision. “I don’t know how long this case will last. We’ll set up a rotation. Burgie pulls lead on the next case. Then you can draw lots for the others, but remember, whoever is lead has to sign off on all the paperwork.”

Poke frowned. “I know you’re manipulating the hell out of me right now, but damn if I don’t want to deal with Gibson in filing.” 

Vera nodded in agreement. “Burgie _does_ have the most experience. And Gibson likes him.”

“Well, then that’s settled then,” Andy said.

“Thanks so much, Captain,” Burgie said. 

Andy laughed as he checked his email one last time and then gathered his coat and the file on Edward Jones. 

“Leaving already?” Burgie asked. 

Andy nodded. “I have to read up on my new partner before this starts and I don’t want to leave an electronic trail. I trust you three can handle everything for the next two hours.”

“We got you, Boss,” Vera said. 

“Keep in touch,” Burgie said. 

“Let us know if you need back-up,” Poke said.

Andy waved at them as he headed to the elevator, thankful as always for such an amazing team.

***********

“Your usual?” Stella asked already pouring a finger of whiskey into his glass.

“And this is why I keep coming to your fine establishment,” Andy said as he picked up his drink and toasted her. 

Stella winked at him before moving on down the bar to the other regulars of _Karamanlis_. It wasn’t a cop bar or a sports bar or any other type of theme place; just a family-owned hole in the wall that made you feel like one of their own. 

The baklava was an added bonus.

Andy forced himself to relax his shoulders as he sipped his drink. The new case was going to take him back to his past, back into fatigues, back to Captain Haldane, back to living on base at Quantico while they tried to flush out this drug ring. He’d be pulled from his current life here in Anacostia and pushed back into his own past, just with the addition of a spouse. 

So not a complete rehash of his history, but enough to make his hands shake now and then as he remembered the life he’d gladly left behind. Granted, NCIS wasn’t exactly a far step away from the Marine Corps, but after his last tour Andy was more than ready to be anything other than Captain Haldane for the rest of his life. 

Andy put his glass down and picked up the case file that contained all the pertinent information they had so far on the case: a new type of drug had hit the proverbial docks, with all signs pointing to Quantico as the source. It took a hell of a lot of arrogance to manufacture drugs on a Marine Corps base that was also home to the FBI training academy, NCIS headquarters, and various other agencies with national and international ties.

But NCIS’ main concern was protecting the dependents. Quantico's combined middle and high school was a prime target for dealers. It wasn’t easy being a military brat. It especially wasn’t easy living on a base that was so self-contained. Quantico was like the ultimate military bubble. It wasn’t the easiest way to grow-up, and Andy couldn’t really blame any kid looking for some type of release from all that stress and pressure. He just wished they’d stick to speeding or minor vandalism or something with generally less fatal possible outcomes. 

And some asshole, or a group of assholes, was taunting all of them with this mess.

Andy flipped through the pages of the case file until he came to Senior Agent Jones’ profile. A long list of commendations and praise. Almost exclusively worked undercover jobs, most recently coming off an Op with the San Diego field office. Local boy, of a sorts, East Coast at least. A few years older than Andy. His eyebrows rose as he saw the years Jones had served in Force Recon. Those guys had always been nuttier than a squirrel’s home, as Popeye Wynn would say.

“You look tense, babe,” a smooth, southern drawl whispered in his ear as hands landed on his shoulders and massaged them for a second.

Andy looked up into the face of one Edward A. Jones. He appeared slightly older than his picture on file; hair longer and curlier with a hint of grey, crow’s feet around his eyes more pronounced, square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and a smirk on his face as he slid onto the stool next to Andy. He definitely didn’t look like a typical federal agent. 

Jones reached out, stole his glass, and tossed back the rest of his drink.

“We should get home. You know how Fluff gets if you’re not there to take him for his walk,” he said.

_Fluff_? Who the hell was Fluff?

“That dog’s just waiting for you at the door, I know it.” Eddie said. He tucked himself into Andy’s side and slipped something into Andy’s pocket. “I’ll go start the car; you pay your tab.”

Eddie stood up and cupped Andy’s face. “Don’t make us wait too long.”

“O–okay,” Andy stuttered out. He pulled out his wallet and caught sight of the note Eddie slipped him. 

**Body found–O.D.**

Andy threw some money down on the bar and hurried outside. The clock had officially started ticking on this case. No more time to waste, even if Andy had about a thousand questions running through his head right now.

**********

Eddie Jones had held many official designations in his life: son, brother, church choir song leader, merchant marine, Force Recon Marine, Specialist, NCIS Major Case Response Team Field Agent, Agent-a-float, and his current nebulous position of becoming whoever the agency director ordered him to be.

It all started when he was plucked off his Recon team to help with a few _specialty_ jobs; it meant he’d worked at least once with 95% of the Alphabet Agencies under the U.S. government and all branches of the military. Whatever he was asked to do, whenever he was loaned out for a job, Eddie had a knack for doing it competently, quietly, and well. He wasn’t the shock and awe, flashbang kind of operative. He did his work without grabbing any sort of headlines. It had made him a valuable asset, and when the time had come to finally leave the Corps, NCIS was the only agency who didn’t try to woo him to their side. Agent Haney had shown up to his parents’ home, dropped off an application and a cup of coffee, and left. 

The rest had been history. Eddie excelled at his job. He never suspected undercover work to suit him so well, but he’d had a lifetime of putting on and casting off various roles. And it didn’t hurt that he was a good listener. People just liked to confess their sins to him; something about his face, he supposed. His mama always said he looked like the trusting kind. 

Now Eddie lounged against the four-door sedan that belonged to Allison A. Haldane, his assigned partner for his current mission. Eddie had heard about Haldane back when he still wore an official uniform; his superior officers were full of praise, but Eddie never put stock in that. He always trusted the opinions of the enlisted over the hierarchy. 

Haldane was spoken of with love and respect by all the people he had led. Similar reports came from the NCIS agents he’d worked with and trained. Haldane’s team had one of the highest solved cases rate in the history of the agency. Even though he worked with a team, Haldane didn’t like working with a partner of equal standing. He was great at being a leader but rarely worked on just a two-person team, rarely let anyone follow him into danger on his deep cover missions. Eddie suspected control issues or a hell of a guilt complex. 

He watched Haldane walk out of _Karamanlis_ and guessed it was a bit of both. Trust issues probably mixed in there somewhere too. 

Some of the older NCIS agents hadn’t liked Haldane. He’d been called a brown noser, a ladder climber, accused of sleeping with _someone_ to have such high career advancement. He was in his 40s now, but still looked as fit as agents half his age. He really did look like the NCIS poster boy, with that strong jaw and broad shoulders in a perfectly tailored suit jacket. Little wonder he was the one chose to go undercover as, well, his former self. Captain Haldane, USMC indeed.

Haldane patted his pockets looking for his keys and Eddie shook the set he had in his hands. 

“How?” Haldane asked. He shook his head and cursed. “When you slipped the note in, of course.”

“Sleight of hand and distractions, they always work,” Eddie said. He pulled open the driver’s side door and slid into the seat.

“This is my car,” Haldane said. 

“And you have no clue where we’re going,” Eddie said with a grin. “Learn to share, Haldane.”

Haldane closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before muttering something and sliding into the passenger seat. “Just don’t get into an accident.”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie drawled. 

He waited until they were on the highway before he started talking. 

“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable back in the bar. I had to gauge your reactions. The easiest way to sell something like this is to keep it as close to the truth as possible. We have to be believable, especially on a base where our neighbors are going to be some of the best trained analytical minds the Marines can offer.”

“And what would you have done if I’d thrown a punch?”

“Ducked.”

Haldane grinned. “Good answer.” He tapped his longer fingers against the grey fabric of his trousers. “Look, I only have one question.”

Eddie almost worried about what that could be. “Yeah?”

“Who the hell is Fluff?”

“My dog,” Eddie said, almost caught by surprise. That wasn’t the first, or fiftieth, question he expected. “Goes with me everywhere and will be joining us on base.”

“I’m guessing it’s fluffy?” 

“Not really,” Eddie admitted. “He got the name after tearing a stuffed animal apart. He’s a retired bomb sniffing dog. Hell of a guard dog too. He’ll like you, don’t worry.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Haney already gave me one of your shirts so Fluff could get used to your scent. Don’t worry about it.”

Haldane made to say something and stopped. He laughed then, the sound deep and warm, filling the car. “So much for personal boundaries,” he said.

Eddie shrugged. “We’re going to be sharing a bed and bathroom, Haldane. Personal boundaries flew out the window the second you took this case.”

“Andy,” Haldane said. 

Eddie nodded. “Andy,” he said. “I hope your stomach’s good, because we’re about to go check in with a coroner.”

“Hell of a first date,” Andy said. 

“Sorry,” Eddie said as he took the exit.

“I’ve had worse,” Andy said.

Now that intrigued Eddie. He expected Andy to have a nice man at home waiting for him, a lawyer or doctor or something. He looked the settled down type, but that tone of voice spoke of years of romantic defeat.

“Try me,” Eddie said.

Andy leaned back, the leather of the seats creaking. “Do you want the story about how the guy I was dating left in the middle of dinner to choke another guy out who was at the same restaurant with his ex-boyfriend? Or the one where a body fell from a balcony onto my car just as we were about to leave? How about the being late for dinner because some idiots decided to rob a bank you were in just before end of day on a Friday?”

“Technically that wasn’t on a date,” Eddie said.

“When I finally got there, the guy threw a beer in my face, called me an asshole, and said the least I could’ve done was call.”

Eddie had to laugh, he couldn’t not, and shook his head to focus on the road. “Sounds like you need a better type.”

“I think I’ve come to the realization that I’m just too old for the dating shit,” Andy said. “I guess I should just give up and start building a boat in my basement.”

“Aww, now,” Eddie said as they turned off the highway to the coroner’s office. “Have some heart there, Andrew Haldane. You never know what life will throw your way.”

Andy just shook his head, silent as the street lights glinted off his light eyes, and frowned. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. 

Haldane’s file didn’t say anything about his being a morose little fucker. Eddie would have to change that. 

“When did they find the body?” Andy asked after they’d parked the car.

“A week ago,” Eddie said. He held up a hand to stop the rant he just knew was about to come. “We had to wait for the initial blood tox results to come back before Doc Oswalt would call it an overdose. You know it’s going to take at least a month until the full results and ready. Only then can they definitively match them to whatever shit is coming out of Quantico.”

“I’m coming into this a week late,” Andy said.

“If you want to be technical about it, you’re coming in three months late since the initial drug bust when Agent Heffron caught an Ensign with a bottle of this shit on the _USS George Washington_. We think it might be the first body, but we can’t tell until the forensic folks get back with the exact drug signature and that could take months.”

“Well, there’s a whole lot of certainty,” Andy said.

Eddie could understand why he was frustrated. Every moment they weren’t out there trying to stop this meant another potential death. You couldn’t make results appear out of thin air though, and Eddie was long past the age and employment experience where he wanted instant gratification rather than 100% accurate verification in terms of evidence. Working an undercover op already boiled over with risk; drugs always made that worse, and he wasn’t about to risk both their asses on a whim based off pieces rather than the whole.

Eddie shrugged as he punched in the access code to the morgue. “The most we can do is try to catch the dealers now and keep it out of the hands of all those young dependents we’re supposed to be looking after. Right now it seems to be contained to the younger enlisted members, but you know that shit’s going to show up in the local high schools at the very least.”

“And how do we plan on infiltrating that particular group?”

Eddie waggled his fingers in Haldane’s face. “I’ve got magical musical fingers and the secondary school on base is in need of a music teacher.”

“That’s a hell of a convenience.”

“The principal might be my cousin-in-law,” Eddie admitted. 

“Nothing like nepotism to get through the world.”

“Says the heir to an elite family of Boston lawyers,” Eddie said. He laughed at the startled look on Andy’s face. “Yeah, I read your file.”

“And?” 

“Well, darling, we’ve just met. I let you know by the end if you’ve lived up to your Masshole legacy,” Eddie said.

“Says the man from Bumfuck, Nowhere,” Andy muttered.

“Hey, that’s Bumfack, PA, thank you very much.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Ray Oswalt was probably the youngest coroner Eddie had ever met. The kid was good at his job though, and more than capable of handling all the unique stressors of dealing with veteran NCIS agents who had little time and even less patience. 

He also had a hell of a need to please and Eddie tried not to take advantage of it too often, but the clock had started and he could hear it ticking down in his mind until the next body was found. 

Andy stood at Eddie’s side as he punched in his access code to get into the employee only areas of the morgue. It always sent a shiver down his bones, walking the barely lit halls of the old building. It was always cold down here—had to be considering where they were—and Eddie didn’t know how a young kid like Oswalt kept the smile on his face when he dealt with this place and dead bodies all day. 

To each their own, Eddie supposed.

“You okay?” Andy asked. There was no judgement in his tone, just a hint of concern.

Eddie shrugged. “Never did like morgues or funeral homes or graveyards. All my years haven’t made it any better.”

“I think that’s a good thing,” Andy said, his eyes even kinder than before. “It says something that you’ve been doing this for so long and still aren’t numb to it.”

“I think the second you grow numb to it you got to leave,” Eddie admitted. “I’m all for gallows humor and getting through any way you can, but if you don’t _feel_ anything doing this job? It’s time to go.”

“Agreed,” Andy said. 

Eddie knocked on the door to Oswalt’s office, rolling his eyes at the sound of Katy Perry warbling through the cracks in the door.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Eddie said as Oswalt opened the door. 

Oswalt laughed and waved them both inside. He thankfully turned off the music and held out two blue folders. 

“I don’t have much so far, just some initial observations. Toxicology is going to take weeks. Even with the ordered fast-track by the Secretary of the Navy, we still have a backlog on the fast-track.”

“Can we send it to one of the other agencies?” Andy asked. 

Eddie laughed. “You really think SecNav will let that blow to his pride? Calling up someone in the FBI and ordering Quantico to handle our samples? Hell, they might just try and take over.”

Oswalt nodded. “Until this hits the news, I doubt SecNav or the Director will let us reach out to the other agencies. Even if Quantico got the sample it would still only cut the wait-time off by a week.”

“A week can matter,” Andy said as he flipped through the file.

“It can and it will,” Oswalt agreed, shoulders and jaw tense. “But I also won’t lie to you, just to tell you what you want to hear and I can’t magically pull tox screen results out of my ass.”

“Have you really tried though,” Eddie asked.

Oswalt’s shoulders relaxed, and he looked like his normal self again. “Thanks for that, Eddie.”

Eddie gripped his shoulder. “Hey, kid, it’s okay. This is a hell of a case and all you can do is what you can do.” He opened his file. “So, who’s on your table?”

“Seaman Marcus Robinson,” Oswalt said. “Found by his landlord after he was late on his rent check.”

“Offbase?” Andy asked.

Oswalt nodded. “An apartment complex in Triangle.”

“Just outside Quantico,” Eddie said. “It’s spreading.”

“I can’t tell you when or where he got the drugs,” Oswalt said. “That would be your job, of course. But I can tell you he did not go gentle into that good night. Looks like he tried to take a dive off his balcony and hit the brick wall next to it instead.”

“So, this isn’t your garden variety angel dust,” Andy said.

Oswalt shook his head. “The skull fracture would’ve killed him, probably, eventually, but it’s the heart attack that did it this time.” He pulled out his tablet and showed them a set of results. “It’s not just PCP. It’s mixed with someone else, making a monster of a drug.”

“Where the hell are they even getting this?” Eddie asked. “PCP usage has dropped to less than 1% with the rise of all the pill poppers in the world.”

“Everything old is new again,” Andy said. “Polydrug use has been on the rise for decades.” He closed his file. “How is the DEA not all over this?”

“SecNav pulled rank,” Eddie said. “Marines, Naval personnel, and their dependants. That’s NCIS.” He leaned against Oswalt’s desk. “I have a contact in the DEA though. She’s putting out feelers. It’s only a matter of time before they get called for a joint investigation, especially if this starts to leak outside of our zone. But they can’t and won’t easily slip into life on Base. You know most of them don’t know what it’s like to live there, to live in that lifestyle.”

Andy nodded. “We should get moved in as soon as possible.”

“I agree,” Eddie said. He straightened up and grabbed his file. “Doc, always a pleasure. Let us know what else you find.”

Oswalt nodded. “I will. Good luck, Eddie, Agent Haldane.”

**********

Andy tried to read more of Doc Oswalt’s findings by the passing streetlights, completely engrossed in the test results before him, when the car lurched to a stop.

Andy blinked and shook his head, eyes adjusting to the brightness of the overhead light and the silence of the car, with the engine turned off and tires off the road. They were parked in a driveway. The house was old, a Victorian style, with the type of industrial dumpster outfront and plastic blue sheeting over parts of it that told of a long remodeling project. 

“You’re not about to throw me in there, are you?” Andy asked with a nod towards the dumpster.

“Not unless you’ve turned into a moldy bit of carpet, circa 1960.”

Andy sucked air between his teeth and sighed. “Sadly, I’m a moldy bit of carpet circa 1978.”

“Ooh,” Eddie said with a shake of his head, “not your turn, then.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Come on, you should meet Fluff before the move.”

Fluff was a monster of a dog. A huge german shepherd that Andy was positive small children could easily ride. He took one sniff of Andy’s hand and then ran to get some braided rope toy, before sitting down and waiting for Andy to throw it.

“He’s finally remembering how to be a playful dog again,” Eddie said. “Not bad for his retirement.”

“Not bad for anyone’s retirement,” Andy said, scratching behind Fluff’s ears. 

“He’s a good boy.”

Andy looked up to find a woman in dust-covered overalls, her long dreds pulled back and protected under a rainbow-colored headscarf. She had a sledgehammer slung over her shoulders and a curious quirk to her mouth.

“Andy, please meet my sister-in-law, Queena. She’s the one leading the restoration project on the house,” Eddie said. “Queena, this is Andy Haldane.”

“The fake husband?” she asked.

Eddie nodded. 

“Well, you could’ve done worse,” she said. “Even if he looks like he walked right out of the FLETC guide book.” She smiled at him. “Sure you’ve heard that before.”

“All the damn time,” Andy admitted.

“Well,” Queena said, swinging the sledgehammer down and resting it against the door. “Since y’all aren’t some burglars, I guess I don’t have to kill you. Which is good, because that would’ve been a mess, and I just redid these floors. Come on into the kitchen. It’s the one room that’s done and Katie’s already got dinner started.”

Eddie followed Queena, Fluff walking at this side, and Andy took a moment to wonder just how his day had turned into this.

Elmo Haney was sitting in his office right now, lighting up a cigar, swirling some whiskey, and laughing his ass off at Andy Haldane.

**********

One of the few constants Andy had been able to maintain throughout the various twists and turns of his life was his morning run. It started in middle school as a way to get more fit for football tryouts. After the years he didn’t feel right in his own skin unless he’d had some sort of run, even if it was around headquarters. He’d almost lost it that time he’d sprained his ankle. A daily run allowed him to settle himself and it was just how he liked to start off his day.

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers crooned him along as he ran his usual path, past the convenience store, the small used bookstore, and the bakery. He resisted the siren smell of fresh bread and circled back home, cooling down in his exercise, and slowing his steps as he spied an unfamiliar old pickup truck parked next to his mailbox. Two heads peeked out of the driver’s side window, one furry and familiar, the other with a condescending smirk and unknown. 

“May I help you?” Andy asked as he pulled out his earbuds. 

The unknown shrugged his skinny brown shoulders and blinked at him slowly, as if he was on something. He tilted his head and studied Andy before leaning back in his seat.

“‘Suppose you might could,” he said, “but I ain’t here for you.”

Andy was fairly certain that was Fluff, leaning half-out the window. He was also positive that was his mailbox, at the end of his driveway, and this was his house. So he had no clue who the hell else this man could be here for.

A sigh that only Atlas could make as he shrugged came out of the truck.

“I’m one of Hillbilly’s boys.”

“Who?”

“Eddie Jones. We call him Hillbilly. I work with him. I’m going to be on your support crew. We’re here to help you move.”

“We?” Andy asked looking closer at the truck that contained one man and one dog.

“The others are coming.” A thin, but toned arm stuck out of the window, a hand out for a shake. “Merriell Shelton. Folks call me Snafu.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Andy said as he took the offered hand.

“Oh, you’ll learn,” Snafu said in a way that could’ve been a threat, but was definitely a promise. “You going to invite us in, or are we going to have to piss all over your daises?”

“Begonias,” Andy corrected. He gestured at the door. “Please, come in.”

Snafu shook his head as he slithered out of his seat. “Not even asking me for some credentials? You just soft or stupid Haldane?”

It was a fair question, and it was good to see the smarts behind the attitude, but Andy knew where all the weapons were in his house and yard, and honestly knew that even if Snafu was fast, Andy could still easily break something he’d miss. Andy waited until they were close to the front porch, before slamming his foot right above Snafu’s knee and tackling him to the ground in a restraining hold before he could react.

“Do I pass your test, now?” Andy asked as he reached into Snafu’s pocket and pulled out his NCIS credentials. 

“Yes,” Snafu hissed out. “Now let me up, asshole.”

“That’s Captain Asshole,” Andy said. He helped pull Snafu up and dusted off his clothes. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Better have a jug of it,” Snafu said. He whistled and Fluff darted out of the car, stopping right next to Andy on the porch. “And some water for the dog.”

**********

“I might would rob a bank if I knew I only had about a month to live,” Popeye Wynn said.

Andy’s and Eddie’s teams had gathered at their new ‘home’ helping set up additional security and surveillance as well as helping to unpack. Popeye Wynn and Shifty Powers were the only ones who knew everyone there, but they were all getting along, even as they played an ever-escalating game of What If?

“No,” Eddie said from his place looking over Vera’s shoulder, checking to make sure all the fake photos of Andy and Eddie looked natural as she and Poke filled boxes full of picture frames. 

“It’s only a hypothetical, Hillbilly,” Snafu said.

“No,” Eddie repeated. 

Shifty just kept his mouth shut and smiled at Andy as he helped move boxes from the porch into other parts of the house. 

“Should’ve got Lip to help us,” Snafu said from his nest of DVDs and video games. Burgie was setting up the electronics while Snafu was left to sorting. 

“He’s got a thing,” Eddie said in a tone even Andy recognized not to question.

“Speirs,” Snafu mumbled.

“A thing of great importance,” Eddie said.

“Speirs,” Snafu said louder. 

Andy leaned down to Eugene Sledge, the quitest of Eddie’s team, and asked. “Who is Lip?”

“Crawood Lipton,” Sledge said. “He works for the CIA, but he’s not completely evil.” He laughed softly. “Everyone’s convinced Speirs is though.”

“Speirs? Ronald Speirs?” Andy asked.

Sledge nodded. “The one and only.”

Ronald Speirs was a legend to some, a ghost to others, and an object of general confusion and fear to most. Andy had dealt with him more than once in places only known as Classified. He didn’t want to open any can of worms that involved the CIA and Ron Speirs.

“So why is it that Jones’ team gets to provide back-up and we’re being sent back to the office after we get paid in pizza?” Poke asked.

“Because they’re not a traditional investigative team and you are,” Andy said.

“Only one of us able to sketch a crime scene is probably Sledgehammer,” Snafu said. “Ballpeen over there would just fuck it all up.”

“I fucked up the chain of evidence one time,” Bill Leyden aka Ballpeen said. “You gotta let that go, Snaf.”

“Not until that asshole’s back in jail where he belongs, instead free because the evidence got fucked because you needed a taco,” Snafu said.

The temperature in the room had dropped to Arctic levels offFrosty. Andy caught Eddie’s eyes across the room before looking back across at all the downcast heads and tight shoulders. No one was ready to say anything to change the subject. Every agent in this room knew how important the chain of custody was to proving and winning a case. And every single one of them had left evidence in a car or van while stopping for a food run. They were only human.

“We’ve all fucked up a case,” Andy said. “We’ve all done it early in our careers. There will be a time when we’ll all do it again. What matters is making it right. No one in this room has a perfect record.” He looked over the agents sprawled out across the living room. “Well, except Shifty of course.”

Shifty’s face immediately turned red and he tried to make himself smaller. “No, no, that’s not true,” he stammered. “And anyways I don’t often go into the field. I’m down in the ballistics dungeon more often than not.”

“Where you handle evidence all day,” Popeye said.

“Shit, Sailor Man, we all known Shifty’s a saint for dealing with your ass,” Snafu said.

It was just the joke needed to break the tension in the room. Andy’s shoulders relaxed as laughter and catcalling replaced angry and regretful silence. He knew he couldn’t fix everything here, but he still looked over to Burgie who nodded in understanding. They’d look into this past case. They’d try to fix it for Eddie and his team. It was something Andy’s team could sink their teeth into while he was gone, and Popeye would know enough about the old case to be of significant help to the new investigation. Andy could trust them to handle it and not have it distract him while he worked on this case, became someone else, submerged himself into this new life.

And apparently adopted a whole other team in the wake of his fake marriage.

**********

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Even Fluff wasn’t making a sound. Andy stared at himself in the mirror. He’d sat in the kitchen and let Poke cut his hair, buzz the sides down, back to the high and tight style of his past, and stayed quiet and still as Burgie and Vera swept up the fallen hair on the floor. He had a razor in his hand now, staring down at it, knowing that it he’d have to shave in the morning. He shaved most mornings, but this time he wouldn’t have a choice. Fucking unfirom regulation codes. Haney himself had delivered Andy’s uniform, fresh from the dry cleaners. It hung on the back of the bathroom door, still protected in its plastic.

Andy put the razor down next to the can of shaving cream and the soft towel laid out next to the side of the sink. He grabbed the toothpaste instead, not his normal kind, but it would do, and was glad he was at least allowed to have his own toothbrush.

He needed to pull his head out of his ass. He needed to get back into the state of mind as Captain Haldane, but selfishly he just wanted one more night as Andy and Andy alone. He lingered after he was done, staring at himself in the mirror, wondering how different he’d look in the morning with those ribbons on his chest again. 

“Fuck,” Andy muttered as he switched off the light and left the bathroom.

“You okay with this?” Eddie asked. He was already settled in bed, propped up on a wealth of pillows, and watching Andy’s every move.

“It’s been awhile since I shared a bed with anyone,” Andy admitted. 

“No pressure,” Eddie said. He gave Andy a small, soft smile. “I promise to still respect you in the morning.”

“Even if I’m a stealth sleep snuggler?”

“Especially if you’re a stealth sleep snuggler.” 

Andy climbed into the right side of the bed. “Well, that’s one sure thing.” 

Eddie hummed. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Nervous,” Andy admitted.

Eddie smiled. “Want me to sing you to sleep?”

Andy laughed. “I don’t need a lullaby, but thanks for the offer.” He laid down and stared up at the ceiling, followed the slowly turning blades of the fan there. “Probably won’t get much sleep, but if I start snoring, just shove me out of bed.

“Aye Aye,” Eddie said as he switched off the bedside lamp. 

Things weren’t easier in the dark, but they weren’t more terrifying either, so Andy would take it as a win.


End file.
